


Meetcutes

by NTonks



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Merlin (TV), Sherlock (TV), marauders - Fandom
Genre: College AU, Drabbles, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Multi, Multiparing, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Seriously Tiny, Shakespeare Quotations, Teenlock, Tiny bit of Angst, Tumblr Prompt, Work In Progress, lots of AUs, multifandom - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-29
Updated: 2015-12-02
Packaged: 2018-05-03 22:08:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5308805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NTonks/pseuds/NTonks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of random "how we got together" drabbles inspired by a Tumblr post, featuring my main four otps. Other characters will be tagged as they contribute to the stories. Planning on all of these being in the 1,000-2,000 word range. Short, sweet, fluffy, and fun!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Movie Confusion (John/Sherlock)

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, I've been a long-time reader on here, but this is my first time posting. I decided to start with short prompts for multiple pairings to try different things out. This is not beta'd, so constructive comments are very much appreciated! 
> 
> I'll try to leave info for each chapter in the notes, so you can skip if it's not your thing. None of these are going to be related. I'll try to update regularly, but as of right now I don't have a set schedule.
> 
> I do not own any of the characters, I am just borrowing them. All rights belong to the original creators.
> 
> Hope you enjoy, thank you for reading!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: I can’t tell whether this is a date because you asked to see a movie, but I’m still not sure you’re queer, and I’m toeing the line because maybe you’re just trying to make friends.

So far, things had been going well with his new lab partner. Certainly far better than any lab partner Sherlock had worked with in the past. John Watson was reasonably intelligent, unexpectedly funny, and strangely enough seemed to actually like Sherlock. Since being paired together on the first day of school, John had first started talking to Sherlock outside of class, then started sitting with him at lunch, meeting with him to study after school, hanging out doing non-school related activities, standing up against bullies for him, and eventually becoming friends with Sherlock. Not only was John Sherlock’s friend, but he had introduced Sherlock to people like Mike, Molly, and Lestrade who were also almost friends.

Nothing like John though, John was in his own class of friendship altogether for Sherlock. John thought Sherlock’s deductions were amazing, and would laugh so hard he almost got into trouble when Sherlock passed him notes with deductions about their teachers and classmates. John worried about whether Sherlock ate enough, and even though he complained, would always make sure Sherlock ate something during lunch. John could make Sherlock’s brain quiet when it got overwhelming, and he could make all the data flying around fit into place for Sherlock. John listened to Sherlock play violin, and he had inside jokes with Sherlock, and he would tease Mycroft, and talk with Sherlock for hours, and did and was a countless number of other amazing things that made him different. What it boiled down to, really, was that John made Sherlock feel human, and that was what made him special.

Which was why Sherlock was now panicking, because after a few months of going from lab partners to friends with John Watson, there were some important details about John that Sherlock had yet to deduce. One of these details was John’s sexuality. Sherlock believed that there was a high likelihood that John was bisexual, but as of yet he had only known John to date women. This was irritating for Sherlock, who very much wanted to know, for personal reasons, whether John would consider dating a man. So far though, the lack of certain knowledge was harmless. Now, it was a catastrophe because for the past few weeks it had seemed like John had been flirting with him, and not just in the general way John did with everyone —— John hadn’t done that with Sherlock since that awkward conversation the first week they met. No, this had been what Sherlock would qualify as pointed, specific flirting if it was happening between anyone other than himself and John. There had also been touching, hands brushing while passing lab equipment, hands on backs when walking, shoulder squeezes while talking. All things than often signified attraction, but Sherlock couldn’t trust these deductions with John because there was too much personal bias interfering.

Then John had gone and done the unthinkable. He had asked Sherlock to go with him, alone, to see some pointless film and then get dinner afterwards. Sherlock knew that dinner and a movie was considered to be a standard first date itinerary. It made sense, as the movie provided an opportunity for bonding and potential touching in the dark without actually requiring interaction, and then served as easy fodder for conversation should the evening proceed to the dinner. Sherlock was not sure if such activities were ones friends did in a non-romantic way. Based on this lack of social understanding, any reliable hypothesis as to John’s sexuality or assurance as to whether his actions of the past week constituted as flirting or not, Sherlock was in a complete panic.

He had been attempting to deduce John’s actions the whole evening. John had complimented his appearance when he picked Sherlock up, but had done so in the format of a joke that also (completely unfairly) deprecated his own appearance. Surely if this was a date John wouldn’t want to call himself unattractive? He had held open doors for Sherlock, but he was always polite and considerate. He had paid for the movie tickets, but John was sometimes stubborn about money and insisted on paying for things just because he wanted to prove that he wasn’t friends with Sherlock because of Sherlock’s comparatively wealthy background. John was now leaning close to Sherlock so their shoulders were touching and whispering comments about the movie which Sherlock had to pretend he cared about, but he had made no attempt to take Sherlock’s hand. Overall, results were inconclusive, and Sherlock didn’t know how to proceed.

If this was a date in John’s mind, Sherlock obviously wanted to behave in a receptive and encouraging manner. If it wasn’t a date, and that was all just wishful thinking on Sherlock’s part, which seemed far more likely, then Sherlock didn’t want to make a mistake that would cause John to hate him and end their friendship.

It was all too confusing and too much to process, and the movie theater smelled like other people’s sweat and overly buttery popcorn and he couldn’t think over the flashes of light and too loud sounds of the movie, and suddenly Sherlock couldn’t breathe and he was shaking and his sight was narrowing into a tunnel vision and he felt nauseous and hot and cold at the same time and he was going to do something stupid and John would be humiliated by his idiotic behavior and would never want to speak to him again because he was a freak and---

And suddenly Sherlock was outside, and it was quiet, and the air was perfectly cool, and John had his hands on either side of Sherlock’s face.

“Sherlock, breathe,” John was saying, and he was clearly extremely concerned, but was doing his best to sound calm.

Sherlock took in a few deep breaths to please John. “

There we go, you back now?” John asked, moving his hands to Sherlock’s shoulders and squeezing them in relief when Sherlock nodded, “Christ, you scared me back there, Lock. Why didn’t you tell me you needed to leave?”

Sherlock ducked his head down in embarrassment and mumbled.

“What was that?”

“I didn’t want to upset you by making you miss the film.”

“Didn’t want to--” John cut off, laughing in a way that didn’t sound particularly happy, “Jesus, Sherlock. I don’t care about the film! I mean, it was good, but it wasn’t the point. I could come back and see it myself if I really wanted to. The point of all this was to be with you, and that doesn’t really work if you’re having a bloody panic attack because I made a dumb choice on where to have our date.”

“Date?” Sherlock said, everything else John had said fading away as that single word repeated over and over in his mind.

Eventually he notices that almost half a minute has passed, and John hasn’t said anything. He pulls himself back to the conversation, and sees that John is standing there, staring at him with a horrified look on his face, not saying anything.

Sherlock scrambles to try and fix things. “Um, I didn’t mean...I’m not assuming...there are many definitions and connotations to the word date, and--” he stops speaking, feebly, when John holds up a hand.

“Sherlock,” John says, voice half strangled with some emotion Sherlock can’t place, “are you saying, did you not know that this was a date?”

“I---I wasn’t...sure…” Sherlock admits reluctantly.

John turns away for a second and swears profusely, and Sherlock is already miserably thinking of how he can get his parents to change him to another school because there is no way he will be able to live seeing John every day for the next year and seven months after ruining this. He is just about to open his mouth to apologize when John turns back around.

“I am so stupid sometimes, Sherlock, I’m sorry. I should have realized I needed to be clearer about this. I….I was too afraid to just say what I really wanted, and now I’ve mucked everything up.”

Sherlock blinked a few times in confusion. “You were stupid? No, John, I was the stupid one! I’m the one who ruined everything with my inability to understand social cues, and my panic attack, and now I’ve lost my chance with you because I’m clearly a moron who can’t figure out how dating works!” Sherlock’s voice was going all croaky and he was horrified to realize that tears were starting to form in his eyes, so he quickly turned and started walking away from John.

“Sherlock, wait!”

He heard John calling, but kept walking until a hand pulling on his arm forced him to stop and turn back around. Before he could speak, his head was pulled down and something warm was covering his mouth. It took his brain a few seconds to comprehend that the thing was John’s mouth, and that meant John...his John...was kissing him and he should probably kiss back.

When they finally pulled apart, John still had his arms around Sherlock’s waist, and he had a huge, ridiculous looking smile on his face that made Sherlock want to kiss him again.

“You, Sherlock Holmes, have absolutely not lost any chance with me, because I refuse to let you walk away from this until you let me try one more time,” John stated, still smiling.

“So, Sherlock, I would very much like to take you out on a date. I have our table reserved for us at Angelo’s, and then if you would like, we can go back to my place and watch that documentary on sleepwalking you mentioned the other day. Would you please go out with me?”

Sherlock knew that he had matching smile to John’s on his face as he pretended to consider the offer. “Well, I suppose I don’t have anything better to do tonight,” he replied, trying as best he could to imitate his “bored” tone of voice, before leaning down to get one more kiss from John.


	2. Coin Flip Bet (Sirius/Remus)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one just screamed Marauders at me, totally seemed like the type of dumb thing they would do. 
> 
> AU with minor hint of James/Lily on the side.
> 
> Again, constructive comments always welcome! Thank you for reading, hope you enjoy!
> 
> Prompt: I decided to flip a coin about every decision in my life for a week and that’s how we ended up on a date.

_“Come on mate, I dare you!”_

More often than not, these were the words that caused every horrible situation in Sirius’ life. Well, to be fair at least half the credit for the awful things in his life should go to his parents. The other half though, all of that could be blamed on James Fucking Potter, the person who had the gall to still call himself his best friend after continually ruining his life, ,and James’ bloody annoying habit of daring him to do stupid things like flip a coin about every decision in his life for a week.

Obviously, Sirius was not at all to blame for his own misery by being unable to say no to a dare. He couldn’t say no to one of James’ dares, it was a matter of honor.

James, of course, was having a right laugh at the whole thing, watching Sirius flip a coin and grumble every time he opened the refrigerator, went to the store, and got a promotional flyer in the mail.

“Just so we’re absolutely clear, you are paying for our new subscription to Take a Break magazine, I may have lost that coin toss, but I am NOT shelling out the cash,” Sirius states as they walk into the cafe.

“Yeah, yeah, sure,” James says, not really paying attention as he gets in line.

Sirius grumbles and looks up at the counter to see if his favorite barista is working today. Not that the barista knows that he is Sirius’ favorite. Sirius has been very careful that said barista is never looking when Sirius stares at him, that he never calls the barista by name despite learning it on the first day the barista had been working, to never talk to the barista for more than a few seconds, and to not let on that he sort of creepily listens in on the barista’s conversations with coworkers and thus knows quite a few details about the barista’s personal life. The most important details being that the barista is gay and single.

Remus, the barista, is working, which isn’t actually surprising since he has been working on Mondays at 11 nearly every day since the beginning of the semesters, which is why Sirius has been dragging James here for a snack between classes every Monday since the beginning of the semester. Still, Sirius always checks after one horrible incident in October where he hadn’t checked, and just gone up with his best flirty smile, only to find some random red-headed bird scowling back at him. Well, it turned out that she was actually scowling at James, not at him, and that was how he finally met The Lily Evans from Lit Class James had been going on and on about for weeks, but it didn’t really matter because Lily Evans still hated him because of his association with James, a fact she ensured to remind him of every time they bumped into each other on campus.

It was in that point of his train of thought that Sirius realized he was not the only one to notice Remus was working. James had also spied the now-familiar brunette man, and was giving Sirius a very significant look.

“No!” Sirius hissed as soon as he realized what the look was about.

“Yes!” James hissed back, smiling evilly, “You have been wanting to ask him out for months now, and chickened out every time. I refuse to watch you pining any longer. This is a decision, and this week it is up to the coin!”

“No!” Sirius hissed again, now trying to turn around and leave the cafe. Unfortunately, James caught him and after a few seconds of frantically trying to pull out of his friend’s grip without attracting attention, Sirius gave in.

“Oh relax mate,” James said in mock consolation, slinging an arm around Sirius’ shoulders to ensure he couldn’t leave the line, “You have a 50/50 chance of being able to wuss out of it again.”

“Piss off,” Sirius sniped, knowing full well that James knew full well that he actually had horrible luck with coin tosses. In fact, since starting this whole thing Saturday morning (the bet being made while drunk Friday night) he has lost on every coin toss he actually cared about (like subscribing to the magazine mailing for Take a Break).

When they finally get to the head of the line, James shoves Sirius in front of him. Sirius does make sure to stomp on James’ foot in revenge, before smiling at Remus.

“Hello Sirius,” Remus says cheerfully, and Sirius’ stomach fills with butterflies at the fact that Remus remembers his name, even though he’s remembered it since the fifth time Sirius came in, so it’s been a while now.

“Hi,” Sirius says nervously. He considers actually placing his order first, to stall, but then decides to just get it over with. He pulls out the two-pence coin he’s been using and looks pointedly at James, “Heads for no, tails for yes.”

He flips the coin and closes his eyes. It lands on the counter in front of a confused Remus. Sirius peeks his eyes open and looks. Tails, of course. He takes a deep breath and puts on his best sexy smile, despite feeling like he’s going to be sick from nerves.

“How would you feel about grabbing a drink sometime, handsome?” he asks, crossing his fingers under the counter.

Remus looks between Sirius and the coin, and when he looks back up at Sirius it’s clear he’s furious.

“Is this some sort of joke? What, heads you just get a coffee like normal, tails you decide to humiliate me? If that’s your idea of a good time, please leave and don’t bother coming back here any more,” he says coldly.

“I--” Sirius backs away from the counter, not sure how to respond. He glares at James and stalks out of the cafe, sitting down on the bench outside and burying his head in his hands.

Why did he have to take the stupid bet? Why would he come to the cafe knowing Remus would be there and James was an asshole? Why use such a stupid, corny line to try and ask out Remus when he knows from listening when Remus talked with Lily that Remus is a total romantic? Why was he such a colossal moron when it came to stuff like this.

Sometime later, Sirius heard the bell on the cafe door chime, and felt someone sit down next to him.

“Fuck off James,” he said, without looking up.

“I’m not James, but from what he just told me, I definitely think he deserves that,” a soft, familiar voice replied.

Sirius looked up in shock, to find a tentatively smiling Remus sitting next to him.

“Remus?!”

“Ah, so you do know my name. I wondered when you started greeting me with a ‘Hi Re-mate’ every time you came in.”

“What are you doing out here?” Sirius asked, baffled.

“So, after you walked out, James explained the whole coin flip thing. That he had dared you into flipping a coin to make decisions for a whole week. He also explained that you had...I believe the phrase he used was ‘been pining after me like a teenage girl after a supernatural hottie in a bad paranormal romance novel’ for some months now, and that his whole point to the bet was to force you to finally ask me out. He also explained that bad pick-up lines are apparently your default way of coping with being nervous around someone, and that you even used them on his mother when you first met her, or...something?”

“Yeah...I had never really had friends before him, so she was the first friend’s mom I had ever had to meet. I was afraid I would make a bad impression and she would forbid James from being friends with me or something. Turns out I did make a bad impression with the pick-up lines, but luckily Mrs. Potter could tell I was terrified and thought it was cute.”

Remus laughed, and Sirius was fairly certain that Remus laughing at something he said was the most beautiful sound in the world.

“Anyways, James managed to convince me that I should come out here and give you a second chance. Actually, he pleaded for me to, saying that if I didn’t you’d probably never speak to him again.”

Sirius smiled and nodded gravely, “I probably wouldn’t, which would be very awkward considering we live together.”

Remus returned the smile, “Right. So, I’ve done my part and come out here for the sake of saving your friendship with James. Now, do you have something you’d like to ask me?”

Sirius took a deep breath, and impulsively grabbed one of Remus’ hands.

“Remus, I’ve honestly wanted to ask you out since I saw you on the first Monday of semester. I saw you and I had never seen someone look so sexy in a blue apron before. Then you opened your mouth and started talking about how excited you were for classes to start, and I just found it adorable, and I actually enjoyed my classes because I wanted to tell you about them. I have been coming back here every Monday since then just to see you and get to know you better. I have been a total creep and listened while you were talking to other people because I was too scared to have a real conversation with you myself. I have apparently managed to drive James, who is practically a brother to me, to make this stupid bet with me just to get me to ask you out. So, do you think you could give a frankly pathetic bloke like me a chance?”

Remus grins, takes out a pen, and scrawls a phone number and flat number on the back of Sirius’ hand.

“I was planning to watch Dr. Who tonight, you can bring dinner,” he then pulls a two-pence coin out of his apron pocket, “You’ll need this to decide what to bring.”


	3. Political Views (Anders/Fenris)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: College AU- I’m really passionate about this cause and I will give you this flier if I have to shove it down your throat
> 
> Who else could that prompt describe than Anders?
> 
> Side mention of Hawke/Merrill

“Rally tonight! Join us in front of the Chantry tonight to protest injustices against mages! Here, sir, take a fli--ok then, never mind. Hope to see you tonight.”

Anders ran a hand through his hair in frustration, and then quickly redid his pony tail.

“So, how illegal would it be for me to put down a paralysis glyph to force people to actually stop and listen?” he jokingly asks Karl.

Karl grinned back, “I think that would fall under ‘almost certain imprisonment’ illegal, and would also be rather counterintuitive to our goal of convincing people that mages aren’t evil and dangerous.”

Anders sighed in mock frustration, “Always gotta rain on my parade.”

His attention was then caught by a familiar white head of hair, coming in their direction. The white head of hair happened to belong to one extremely sexy tattooed elf who sat across from Anders in Inter-Class Politics. One extremely sexy elf who had a major brooding problem, and seemed to hate Anders, and argued against every point he made in class apparently just on the principle that Anders was the one making the point.

Well, Anders decided that this was the moment to make the sexy broody elf listen, and he would do anything it took.

“Hold on, Karl, I need to go,” Anders called over his shoulder, jumping down and heading over towards the elf.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fenris was not having a particularly good day. He had been called in to meet with Professor Cousland, who apparently felt that he was lacking the open-minded attitude she desired students in her Inter-Class Politics seminar to display. She had more or less set an ultimatum for him to try and improve on considering multiple viewpoints or drop the class. No amount of arguing could get her to change her position.

To make matters worse, it seemed that the Mages Rights Alliance, or as they stupidly called it for reasons Fenris couldn’t understand the “Underground” was holding a rally tonight. That meant that Merrill would be at the flat all afternoon, trying to decide whether or not she should attend, and asking Hawke for his opinion because the girl could not make a decision on her own for some reason and always looked to her boyfriend for help.

Fenris tried to keep as far away from the mages as possible on the lawn, not wanted to be harassed into taking a flier. He glanced over, and his bad mood got worse by an unreasonable amount. He shouldn’t be surprised to see Anders there, the mage had made it perfectly clear in class that he was in full support of mage rights. He had even mentioned at some point that he was a co-founder of the Underground. It was Fenris’ own fault that despite the damned mage’s political views, he still found the man unreasonably attractive. It didn’t matter though, it didn’t matter how soft the mage’s hair looked, or how his eyes seemed to sparkle when he smiled, or how he made horrible jokes that Fenris had to consciously keep himself from laughing at, or that Fenris couldn’t help but be impressed by the thoughtfulness and intelligence he put into his arguments for mage rights. The man was still a mage, and Fenris needed to get over his stupid crush.

Fenris was so lost in his thoughts, he almost didn’t notice that Anders was suddenly walking beside him. He flinched away.

“What are you doing, Mage? I have no interest in attending your really, as you are no doubt aware,” he growled.

Anders kept an irritatingly cheerful smile on his face, “I have decided to get to the bottom of your anti-mage sentiments, Fenris, so as to better understand my opposition. Tell me, did you know that every year the Circle makes over 87 mages tranquil across Thedas? Mages do not have proper representation in any of the high courts of the country--”

“That is not true,” Fenris interrupts, “You have the First Enchanters.”

Anders makes a derogatory noise, “The First Enchanters are powerless. They only exist so the Circle can pretend mages have a political voice. They are only called in to speak on legal matters if permitted by the Templars, and they have no voting right.”

By now, Anders had been following Fenris away from his bench, and they were practically at the door of the Hanged Man coffee shop.

“Are you planning on following me, mage?” Fenris demands impatiently.

“Probably.”

“You know that could constitute as harassment? I could report you to the campus guard. I’m sure Captain Aveline would be happy to write you up.”

“You could report me,” Anders acknowledges with a smile, “but I know for a fact that Professor Cousland had a chat with you earlier about keeping an open mind to opposing political views. I saw you heading into the building right after I left from being berated myself. I also happen to know that she comes into the Hanged Man for her lunch break every Wednesday at 12:30. That’s in half an hour. So, if you let me get coffee with you, and we sit down to try and talk about this like reasonable human beings, she’ll come in and see us and let us both stay in the class.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Half an hour later, Professor Cousland did come to the coffee shop for her lunch break. She saw Fenris and Anders, and quietly sat at a table behind them and listened as they talked. She was particularly shocked to learn about the abuse Fenris had suffered as a foster child in the home of a mage Denarius. She was even more shocked when she saw Anders reach out to hold Fenris’ hand as he spoke about his childhood.

Three and a half hours later, Fenris and Anders were kicked out of the coffee shop by Varric, who needed to close up, so they relocated to Anders’ apartment, where Fenris met Ser Pounce-a-lot, and learned that Anders ran a secret clinic out of his livingroom for students who couldn’t afford the school’s health insurance.

The next day in class, everyone was shocked to find that instead of arguing over politics like mortal enemies, Fenris and Anders led civil, and extremely interesting debates that had the strangest undertone of humor and affection.

Two months later, Hawke walked into his apartment and was greeted with the sight of something he never wanted to see two of his friends doing on his couch, and he screamed like a little girl.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Oh, come on Hawke, it’s not like we haven’t all walked in on you and Merrill before!”

“Traitors! I’ll never get that picture out of my brain!”

**“Ow, Maker’s--STOP THROWING THINGS!”**


	4. Blind Date Mistake (Arthur/Merlin)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: We’re both meant to be going on blind dates with other people but we sat down at the wrong table and got our hopes up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tiny bit of Gwen/Lancelot on the side!
> 
> As usual, comments welcome. Hope you enjoy!

“Morgana, for the last time, I’m perfectly fine! I don’t need your help!” Arthur shouted as his half-sister ripped yet another shirt out of his hands and threw it into the steadily growing reject pile on the bed.

“Oh Arthur, when will you learn? You can fool Uther, but you can’t fool me. You are not fine. You are a pathetic, moping loser who hasn’t gone out on a date for three months. You need to get over Mithian, and I think my friend is the perfect person to help you do that. They’re more or less the complete opposite from Mithian, and just who you need to get you out of this rut. Now put back that horrible eyesore of a shirt, put this one on so you don’t look like a complete prat, and get your ass in the car in five minutes or you’ll be late.”

Arthur could have argued with Morgana. He was a grown man who could make his own decisions. The only problem was that Morgana was selectively hard of hearing when it came to people saying no to her, and she was also convinced that she always knew what was best for other people. Therefore, finding and slaying a dragon would be a more achievable goal than winning an argument with Morgana.

~~~~~~~~

Merlin sat at the restaurant’s bar, trying not to look as awkward as he felt, and once again pulled out his cellphone to text Gwaine.

_Remind me why I let you talk me into this?_

_By the way, the guy still hasn’t shown up. What am I looking for again?_

**You let me talk you into this because you’ve been complaining for months about how you can never meet nice guys. So I found you a nice guy. He’s not quite as tall as you, absurdly good-looking in a clothes model sort of way. He’s actually a friend of Percy’s from work.**

Merlin was about to text back, when a highly attractive blonde man was shoved into the restaurant by a dark haired woman, and pointed towards the bar. Merlin smiled hopefully at the man, praying that this was his date.

“Hi,” he said, when the man walked up to him, “Um, any chance you work at the Pendragon law firm and have a friend named Percy?”

Arthur blinked in surprise. He couldn’t remember telling Morgana that he was interested in dating men. However, knowing Morgana, she had figured it out anyways using some sort of sisterly black magic, and that’s what she had meant by his date being ‘different’ from people he had seen in the past. Well, she had certainly guessed correctly at the type of guy Arthur liked. The man was the perfect match of gorgeous and adorable. Pale skin, dark hair, awkwardly large ears, and a goofy smile. It was a mix of all of Arthur’s weaknesses with a dash of new things he didn’t even know he liked (mainly the ears).

“Ah yeah. I’m Arthur,” he held out his hand to shake, “Nice to meet you. Want to go get a table?”

“I’m Merlin,” Merlin replied, as they walked away.

Behind them, a dark-haired man tapped the shoulder of a girl standing at the bar.

“Hi, are you waiting to meet someone? My name’s Lance, and my friend sent me here on a blind date. All I was told was to look for someone with black hair, a cute smile, and beautiful eyes. You seem to fit that description.”

The girl blushed and laughed, “My name is Gwen, and lucky for you, I am waiting for a blind date.”

“Oh, thank goodness, otherwise that would have been really embarrassing!”

~~~~~~~~~~~

**How are things going?**

Merlin glared across the table at Arthur. Arthur glared back.

_This guy’s an arrogant, stuck up prat!_

**What? That can’t be right, Lance is one of the nicest guys in the world. He is physically incapable of being rude.**

_Who the hell is Lance?_

**The guy you’re supposed to be having dinner with...who are you with right now?**

Merlin stared at his phone for what felt like an eternity, before jumping up from the table, running out of the restaurant, and calling Gwaine.

“What do you mean I’m supposed to be with some guy called Lance?!”

“Lance Dulac, Percy’s mate from work. You know, wavy dark hair, deep brown eyes, type of person who your grandmother would call ‘a perfect gentleman’. Who the hell have you been talking to for the past hour?!”

“Some prat named Arthur. He came in looking for someone he was supposed to be on a date with, and said he knew Percy. He’s extremely fit, so I assumed that’s who you meant! This is why you needed to give me real details about my mystery date’s appearance, Gwaine!”

“Wait, Arthur? Did this Arthur look like a blonde sports model?”

“Um...yeah...strong jawline, blue eyes, tan...all that.”

“That’s Arthur Pendragon.”

“....................As in son of Uther Pendragon, head of the law firm that is working to try and save my business from being bought out by Cendred Marketing?”

“Yeah. How much damage did you do?”

“I called him a clotpole, accidentally spilled my drink on his trousers, and insulted his upbringing. So...pretty much I should just move out of Camelot and start a new business.”

“Yeah. Probably the best plan.”

Merlin sighed and turned around, not paying attention to what Gwaine was saying. He should at least go back in and offer to pay for his half of the bill. Only, apparently he wouldn’t have to go inside.

“---Merls, I know you find it difficult, but you really need to--”

“Gwaine,” Merlin interrupted, “I’m going to need to call you back.”

He hung up, and stared sheepishly at Arthur.

“So, how long have you been standing there?”

“Since you ran out. You know, you really should excuse yourself from the table before you ditch your date, Merlin.”

“Well, considering you’re apparently not my date, I don’t think it was really a breach in etiquette.”

“What if I told you that I still want you to be my date? Even if you did spill your drink on me and insult my upbringing?”

Merlin splutters in confusion, “Why?”

Arthur steps close to Merlin, and puts a hand on his waist, “Because despite how rude you are, this is the most fun I’ve had in months, and I want to spend more time with you. I can’t understand it, but it’s the truth.”

Merlin found himself leaning closer to Arthur, “Well, I suppose I can give you another chance, even if you are a clotpole.”

“Merlin, what exactly is a clotpole?”

“Arthur, shut up and kiss me.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**One Missed Call**

**Voicemail:** “Uh, hi Lance, it’s me, Gwaine. I just talked to Merlin, and apparently there was a misunderstanding. He’s been spending the whole time with Arthur Pendragon, actually, thinking that was who I had set him up with. So...I don’t know what you’ve been doing this whole time, and if you’re also on a date with the wrong person. I guess that you’ve been having a good time, since you haven’t called me, so...you’re welcome?”


	5. Field Trip Romance (John/Sherlock)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: A scary-looking person who unintentionally makes kids cry and a teacher meet at a children-filled park

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only problem with writing meet-up scenes is you don't get to the actual cute dating stuff, or maybe that's just me? Anyways, I'm a total sucker for 'secretly fond of children' Sherlock, so he's actually a softly under all the unintentional scariness.
> 
> In this fic: lol me trying to write a case. Details shamelessly borrowed and then adapted from ACD's original story "Silver Blaze." 
> 
> Also, apologies to Dimmock's character, I needed a scapegoat, and technically Anderson wouldn't have that type of say, so it had to be you.
> 
> No characters belong to me, I just borrow them! Hope you enjoy!

“Alright,” John called out to the class of six-year-olds lined up in front of the bus, “does everyone remember who their trip buddy is?”

One small hand shot up in the air.

“Yes Sophie?” John asked, smiling at the girl.

“My buddy is Eva, and she’s not here today.”

John consulted his list, “Ah, yes. Ms. Sawyer told me that Eva stayed home today. So, Soph, that means you can be my special buddy today. We’ll make sure to see everything so you can tell Eva all about it when she comes back to school. Sound ok?”

Sophie nodded, beaming up at Mr. Watson, the prospect of getting to be buddies with her teacher making up for the fact that her friend was absent.

“Ok everyone, Ms. Sawyer’s class got here a few minutes earlier than us, so they are already at the barn. We’re going to walk to the main barn where Farmer Ross is waiting for us, and you’ll find your buddy to pair up. Now remember, lots of animals live on this farm, which is very exciting. We need to make sure we’re not too noisy or crazy when we’re walking around though, or we’ll scare the animals. Understand?”

All the children nod, and start shushing each other.

“Good,” John chuckles, “let’s go.”

As they came up on the barn, John saw a tall man in a black coat having an animated discussion with Sara Sawyer, the other teacher, and Mr. Ross. Closer inspection showed that the children from Sara’s class seemed very wary of the stranger and one girl was crying. John was about to tell his class to stay back, when little Sophie called out some word John didn’t understand, and went running up to the tall man. John started running after her quickly. It would be his luck that the daughter of a cop would be the one to accidentally decide to become friends with the crazy stranger on a field trip. The tall man looked over in surprise, but automatically picked Sophie up in a hug when the girl flung herself at him.

“Sophie, sweetheart, you can’t run away from the class like that, it’s not safe” John said in a strict voice once he caught up. He fought down the impulse to automatically pull her away from the strange man, and instead asked, “Who is this, Sophie?”

The man rolled his eyes, “Your concern is admirable, but obviously I’m not a stranger to the girl. Her father made sure to teach his children to be careful around potential strangers at the age of two. She knows me well enough to recognize me from a far distance, so I’m clearly either a relative or an extremely close family friend. In this case, the latter is true. I work with her father, Inspector Lestrade, and my daughter is her best friend.”

“Mr. Watson, this is Eva’s daddy!”

“Eva Holmes? If you’re her father, why are you here when she’s absent from school?”

“Because, Mr. Watson, as I was explaining to Ms. Sawyer and Mr. Ross, a man was killed here yesterday, and I only permit my daughter to visit crime scenes I feel are appropriately secure. This one did not meet my standards.”

At the word ‘killed’ a John hears the few children who had been sniffling in the background start crying anew. Sara goes over to try and calm them down. John opens his mouth to suggest they talk about this away from the children, only to be cut off by Holmes.

“Oh, save your protest. Talking about death does not mentally or emotionally scar children. In fact, shielding children from the concept of death for overly long only makes it all the more difficult for them to cope with grief later on in life. The best thing you can do for a child is to explain to them that death is a natural part of the life cycle, and nothing to be afraid of. That is not the problem here. The problem is that you can brought a pack of six-year-olds to a crime scene.”

“Look, we didn’t get any call from the police, or obviously we wouldn’t have come here today.”

“The police are idi---” John saw Holmes look over at the group of children, before continuing in an irritated tone of voice, “The police made a mistake. They told Mr. Ross that it would be alright for you to come as long as he kept the children away from the horse barn. They didn’t think that there would be any relevant evidence elsewhere on the property.”

“Wait, seriously?” John asked, incredulous.

“Detective Inspector Dimmock is not known for having the best sense of judgement, and I am sure that the moment Lestrade realizes that the Inspector allowed his daughter to come here, he will make sure proper consequences are meted out. I need to be able to investigate the whole farm. We have a missing horse and a murder weapon to find. Roaming children will destroy evidence, and if the murderer is still on the farm they could be taken hostage if the killer panics.”

“I see your point. I’ll call the school and explain the situation, we’ll head back straight away. Do you work for the police? Just, they’ll want to know all the details of why we’re coming back.”

“No, I’m not a member of the Yard. I’m a consulting detective.”

The job title was echoed by an enthusiastic shout from Sophie, which prompted a warm smile from Holmes.

“He and Eva help my daddy to solve mysteries!” Sophie explained. She then asked, “Mr. Sherlock, where is Eva?”

“Sherlock?” John enquired.

“My first name,” Sherlock replied to John, and then to Sophie, “Eva stayed home with Mrs. Hudson today. Maybe you can ask your daddy if you can go see her after school.”

“Is she sick?”

“No, I just needed her to stay at home today. She was actually very mad at me for it. She said that if she stayed home, you wouldn’t have a trip buddy.”

“I’m buddies with Mr. Watson because Eva wasn’t here. He’s almost as good as her.”

Sophie started wiggling, so Sherlock put her down. Sherlock and John watched for a moment as she skipped off towards the other kids.

John laughed and turned back to Sherlock, “Almost as good. I can’t blame her. Eva’s not in my class, but every time I’ve spoken to her, she’s struck me as a great kid. Incredibly smart. So, Sherlock. You help the police solve crimes, but you don’t work for them?”

Sherlock smiles as he listens to John praise his daughter, then answers the question,“Yes, they come to me when they are out of their depths, which is almost always.”

John was about to reply, when they heard Sophie yelling at the top of her lungs from far out into the grazing field

“Sherlock! Sherlock! Horse footprints! I found horse footprints! You said you were trying to find a horse. You can follow the footprints!”

Sherlock sighed and called back, “Sophie, that’s very good observation, but I don’t think--Wait.”

He looked over in the direction Sophie was pointing, then took off at a run. John had to bite back a swear.

“Sara, call the school and get the kids back on the bus! I’ll get Sophie!” he called before starting off after Sherlock.

By the time he caught up, Sherlock and Sophie had gone through a gap in the fence, into the neighboring farm’s property.

“Ah, nice of you to catch up, Mr. Watson,” Sherlock quipped, without looking up from the patch of grass he was examining with a pocket magnifier, “Now that you’re no longer attending physical therapy, you really ought to take up running. Teaching isn’t nearly as active a career as the army. By the way, was it Afghanistan or Iraq?”

“Afghanistan,” John panted out, scowling at the fact that Sherlock was right about the running, “How did you--?”

“Your posture and behavior when you first approached me. You were wary that I might try to run off with Sophie, but didn’t want to provoke me. You scanned the area as you walked up to identify the most likely routes I would take. You stood far enough back that I wouldn’t be able to hit you before running, but close enough you could easily make up the distance to grab me. Your body language showed that you were ready to take action if needed, but you weren’t outwardly hostile, so as not to provoke me. All signs point to combat training, and experience in hostage situations. When you finally relaxed, you shifted into a parade rest stance. Your hair is military cut but grown out, and your hands show a tan more indicative of work abroad rather than holiday. As for the physical therapy, you walk with a slight limp, but you don’t use a cane. So, no real leg injury, or you would have at least brought a walking stick, given the uneven terrain of the farm. No, I would say that the limp is psychosomatic, and the real injury is in your right shoulder, which you hold at a different angle from your left. Obviously, you were injured and discharged. Your injury prevented you from going back to your original occupation as a surgeon, and you didn’t want to go into general practice. So instead, your desire to feel that you are making a positive contribution to society led you into teaching, possibly on the recommendation of a friend who noticed your natural talent with children. You’ve been working for a few months, and while you like it, you still feel the need for a sense of excitement which the job doesn’t provide, which is why you immediately jumped at the chance to follow me when I ran off.”

“That. Was. Amazing,” John breathed out, staring at Sherlock.

“Really?”

Extraordinary, quite extraordinary.”

“That’s not what people usually say.”

“What do they usually say?”

Sherlock glances over at Sophie, “Not something Lestrade would appreciate his daughter learning. Anyways, there’s far more of interest to do here.”

“You found something about the horse or killer?”

“Both, actually. The horse was the killer, though I don’t think you can call a horse a murderer. See the marks in the dirt here? The horse was led here, and then something frightened it. What you ask? This,” Sherlock picked up a small knife.

“A cataract knife?” John observed in confusion.

“Yes. My guess is that our victim intended to injure the horse. A minor injury that would heal, but one that would cause Mr. Ross to sell the horse. The victim was the horse trainer, he could take on the work of the sale himself, sell the horse for it’s full price, and skim off the top, thus settling a large number of credit card debts he’s accrued from his girlfriend’s shopping habits. The horse spooked when he tried to injure it’s leg and kicked him. He was knocked out for some hours, which explains the marks in the grass here, and the horse ran off. He woke up and managed to drag himself back to the barn, only to go unconscious again and die. The horse was found by a worker on this farm, and they hid it for fear that they would be charged for the attack on the victim.”

“Amazing!”

“Do you realize you do that out loud?”

“Oh, sorry.”

“It’s fine. John, parent-teacher conferences are this Thursday. When is your last conference?”

“Eight o’clock. Why?”

“I am scheduled to meet with Ms. Sawyer at seven forty-five. Would you like to go to dinner with me after?” Sherlock attempted to look and sound nonchalant, but John wasn’t falling for it.

He smiled, “Dinner sounds wonderful.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nerdy note if anyone cares: Sherlock's daughter's name is taken from Eva Crane, a nuclear physicist who was the founder of the International Bee Research Association, and served as director from 1949-1983. Seemed like someone Sherlock would name his child after.


	6. Who the F**k Swears By the Moon? (Remus/Sirius)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: I was standing on a balcony when you started loudly quoting Romeo and Juliet at me
> 
> So, I'm a total sucker for Shakespeare, and I think so far this chapter has been the most fun for me to write. I will admit that I am totally guilty of shouting Romeo and Juliet at friends whenever I happen to see them on balconies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own any of the characters, I am just borrowing them. All rights belong to the original creators.
> 
> Comments always welcome! Hope you enjoy, thank you for reading!

Remus hadn't really wanted to come to the party in the first place. He would have much preferred to spend the night at home reading, like he normally did. However, Lily had begged him and after reminding him of the number of papers she had edited for him in the last month, he reluctantly gave in.

Still, as soon as the opportunity presented itself, Remus had snuck out onto the balcony, escaping the crowd and noise inside. He took a deep breath of the warm night air, and looked down at the garden as light spilled out of the open door. It illuminated a trio of men, one with messy black hair and glasses, one short pudgy man with blonde hair, and the third—head currently thrown back in laughter—was extremely good looking with long, wavy dark hair, and a contagious smile.

The three men stumbled out, arms around each other's shoulders, and collapsed down on the grass. A bottle was passed around, and the handsome dark-haired man lit a cigarette. The light wasn't great, but Remus thought that one with glasses was Lily’s sworn enemy James, who had been trying out a whole list of corny pick-up lines on Lily earlier. As he was leaning over the balcony to take a closer look (at him, and definitely not at the sexy one), the dark-haired man noticed him and shifted up onto one knee, extending the hand with the cigarette towards Remus.

“Romeo! Romeo! Wherefore art thou Romeo?”

Remus laughed and called down, “Thou art mistaken sir, for ‘tis Juliet who stands above, and Romeo who speaks from below. The fool who quotes freely but knows not his part, shows not the skill to win claim to my heart.”

The man quickly whipped out his phone, and after a few minutes of tapping, smiled back up at Remus.

“I take thee at thy word. Call but love, and I’ll be new baptiz’d; Henceforth I will be your Romeo.”

Remus smirked at the appropriate change in wording, and took out his own phone to check the next line, “What man art thou that thus bescreen’d in night So stumblest on my counsel?”

“By a name I know not how to tell thee who I am. My name is one of the heavenly and the mundane. I am inspired by the stars, yet find meaning in the most common of creatures. Should you take my pledge of loyalty, I will stay forever faithful by your side.”

Remus takes a few minutes to try and puzzle out the riddle, and then remembers hearing Lily complain about James’ two friends earlier.

“My ears have yet not drunk a hundred words Of thy tongue’s uttering, yet I know the sound. Art thou not Sirius, a friend of Potter?”

“Neither, fair sir, if either thee dislike.”

This prompted an offended shout from James Potter, who tackled Sirius and they tussled on the ground for a moment. Remus was beginning to think that perhaps this party was better than staying home, as he heard a few choice Shakespearean insults being called (lily-livered son of a cockrel) and one of them shout “dost thou think you can take me bro!?”

“How camest thou hither, tell me, and wherefore?” he called out once the two separated, “The garden walls are high and hard to climb, And the place death, considering who thou art with, If my Lily find thee here.”

“With love’s light wings did I o’erperch these walls, for stony limits cannot hold love out, And what love can do, that dares love attempt; Therefore thy friend is no stop to me.”

Remus decided to skip a few more lines, “Thou knowest the mask of night is on my face, Else would a...err, manly blush bepaint my cheek For that which you have spoke tonight. O gentle Sirius, If thou dost love, pronounce it faithfully; Or if thou thinkest I am too quickly won, I’ll frown and be perverse, and say thee nay, So thou wilt woo, but else not for the world, “

Remus stopped there, because James and Peter seemed to like the opening that provided them to taunt Sirius.

“Sir,” Sirius swept his hand up to point at the sky, “by yonder blessed moon I vow, That tips with silver all these fruit-tree tops—”

“Oh, swear not by the moon, Th’ inconsistent moon, That monthly changes in her circled orb, Lest that thy love prove likewise variable.” Remus interrupted, trying to sound properly annoyed.

Down below, James added in his thought of, “Yeah! Who the fuck swears by the moon? Dumbass, the moon is a rubbish thing to swear on!”

Peter then chimed in, “He’s scared, he wants a good excuse to leave when his love varies!”

“Shut up arseholes! I didn’t ask for comments from the groundlings!” Sirius snarled at his friends, then turned back to Remus, “What shall I swear by?”

“Do not swear at all; or if thy wilt, swear by thy gracious self, Which is the god of my idolatry, and I’ll believe thee.”

“If my heart’s dear love—”

Remus interrupted again, suddenly feeling very in-tune with Juliet’s opinion. This had started as a joke, but now he really didn’t want to hear any more words of love from this Sirius, unless they were honest. How the hell do I always end up in stupid situations like this? I mean, who falls for a total stranger who just happens to be good at quoting Shakespeare in the dark? That’s pathetic. Remus kept his eyes firmly on his phone, refusing to look down at his problematic new crush.

“Well, do not swear. Although I joy in thee, I have no joy of this contract to-night, It is too rash, too unadvis’d, too sudden, Too like lightning which doth cease to be Ere one can say it lightens,” Remus quickly started to back towards the balcony door. He turned away, and called over his shoulder, “Sweet, good night! This bud of love, by summer’s ripening breath, May prove a beauteous flow’r when next we meet. Good night, good night! as sweet repose and rest Come to thy heart as that within my breast!”

“O, wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied?”

Remus jumped and spun around. He somehow had not noticed Sirius climb up onto James’ shoulders and pull himself up over the railing of the balcony. Sirius took a step closer and took Remus’ hand gently.

Remus swallowed and nervously checked the next line, “What satisfaction canst thou have tonight?”

Sirius leaned in and covered Remus’ lips in a soft, tentative kiss.

“Whatever you are willing to give tonight,” Sirius said after pulling away. He then quirked his lips into a devilish smile, “Hopefully at least your phone number.”

Remus tried not to laugh and failed, pulling Sirius in for another kiss.


	7. Drunk on Love (Anders/Fenris)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: “I drunkenly tried to fight you and knocked myself out but you were kind enough to take care of me till I woke up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own any of the characters, I am just borrowing them. All rights belong to the original creators.
> 
> Comments always welcome! Hope you enjoy, thank you for reading!

The flash of magic was blindingly bright, and the sound of the crash that went with it left a painful ringing in Fenris’ ears. To Fenris’ surprise he found himself still standing and unharmed. In retrospect sobriety, perhaps it had been a poor choice to goad the clearly drunk mage. It was a rare thing for Anders to drink, and seeing him stumbling, clothes rumpled, hair loose, out of Hawke’s mansion had ignited something in Fenris.

It was all the more surprising because he and Anders had recently come to something of a truce. They certainly weren’t friendly with each other, but they had fallen into a habit of basic civility and mostly ignoring each other. At least, not speaking to each other unless necessary. Fenris wished he could ignore the mage completely, but inevitably found himself noticing things about him like the way his hair shone in the sun when they went out to the Wounded Coast, the gentleness he used when wrapping up an elven child’s broken leg, the flirtatious smile he would flash certain men at the Hanged Man, the easy way he would joke with their other companions.

So while Fenris would say he wanted to just ignore Anders’ existence, and deny that any of his points about the cruelty of the Circle had made an impression, Fenris found he couldn’t. Instead he found himself wanting to speak with the mage, run his fingers through that soft hair, be the recipient of those promising smiles and warm laughs. A lack of jobs from Hawke meant he had spent a few days with nothing to do but brood on these disturbing desires. He had in fact been heading to his friend’s mansion, he wasn’t sure whether to ask for advice on his feelings or to insist that his friend find some pointless job to take on, when he came upon the drunk mage.

In a jealous moment of misjudgment, he had taken in the sight of Anders’ rumpled appearance and jumped to the conclusion that Anders was slipping out after having sex with Hawke. The poisonous images flashed through his mind, causing him to forget that Hawke was completely besotted with Merrill, and wouldn’t risk his chance with her by having sex with anyone else. All he could think of was Anders, his mage, entwined with the other man, and he was so furious his brands lit up for a moment without him consciously activating them.

He had called out to Anders and invited the mage to his own house for a drink, and then started questioning him about his reasons for being at Hawke’s mansion so late at night. As the questioning continued, insults started slipping in, more hurtful and barbed than they had ever used before. Soon they were fighting, standing across the room from each other and screaming. Then the blue light of the Fade had cracked through Anders’ skin and he had shouted some spell, Fenris had tried to brace himself, but nothing happened to him.

Instead, once he looked around, he saw that the spell had apparently backfired on Anders. The mage was laying in a heap on the floor, completely unconscious. A crack on the wall indicated that the spell had flung him backwards, and a small amount of blood was seeping out of a cut on the back of his head. Fenris swore, and quickly ran to fetch an elfroot potion from his room. He poured it in Anders’ mouth and massaged his throat to get it to go down.

Fenris then picked up the mage, and carried him to his bed. He brought in water for Anders to drink once he woke up—he will wake up, he has to wake up—then started pacing because he couldn’t think of anything else to do.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Who died?” a croaky voice called out. Fenris’ head snapped in the direction of the bed, and he actually phased himself over to Anders’ side.

“You’re awake,” he said, aware that it was a rather obvious observation, but needing to confirm it nonetheless. His hand hovered awkwardly just over the mage’s stomach.

“I think so. Seems like I’m in too much pain for this to be a dream.”

“Here,” Fenris picked up the cup of water and put an arm behind Anders’ back to sit him up, “drink.”

“Thank you,” Anders said after a few sips, “Now, who died?”

“No one,” Fenris answered, confused, “Why do you think that someone has?”

“Well, you hate me, and my last memory involves us screaming at each other. Now I find myself in your bed, with you acting highly concerned and attentive. It’s a very nice place to be, don’t get me wrong, but I can only assuming that it’s happening because we both lived through some horrible apocalyptic event and now all the rest of our friends you actually like are dead. Either that or I am being manipulated by a surprisingly creative Desire Demon.”

Fenris splutters at that comment, and feels his ears flushing in embarrassment, “That’s not--there was an accident--you knocked yourself unconscious, and I felt I needed to--someone had to make sure you weren’t seriously injured---not that I was worried--”

Anders hummed in consideration, then lean forward and gently kissed Fenris on the lips. He pulled away slowly and looked at Fenris almost sadly, “Demon.”

“What!?” Fenris asked in shock, trying to understand what was happening.

“You’re a demon, you have to be. The real Fenris would have killed me for that.”

Fenris growled and pushed Anders down onto the bed, “I am not a demon, Anders. You would think someone hosting a demon in their own body would know better.”

Anders looked up at Fenris in surprise, “Then why--”

Fenris cut him off with a kiss, pulling back for a moment to ask, “Clear enough for you?”

A delighted smile bloomed across Anders’ face, and then shifted into a wicked smirk. He pulled Fenris’ body closer to his own.

“No, I think I’m still a bit confused. You had better explain some more.”

Fenris chuckled, leaning down so his lips were a breath’s space away from Anders’, “Hush, fool mage.”


End file.
